Celsius
by RinnX
Summary: Paine is confused by the being that is Rikku. A oneshot PaineRikku fluff


Hi everyone!

Just wanted to share with all of you a fic that my little cousin wrote as a present for me. She was simply tooooo shy to share her stories and I've decided to go ahead and do so for her (with her permission, of course). All reviews/encouragements would be appreciated ( for the shy one ) and I'll pass them along to her. I hope that you will all enjoy it as much as I did. )

Fair warning - This is a shoujo-ai fluff between Paine & Rikku.

To Misty - HUGGLES & LOVE!

**Celsius. **

by Mistyfox

**FFX-2**

**PainexRikku**

**Ash, happy (very very very) belated. (: 33**

**Bridge**

She's as annoying as hell, from the way she talks non-stop, and can't stand still, and is always constantly bouncing and fidgeting to the way the beads in her hair clink against one another like monotonous wind chimes, adding to the general noise of her.

Even the colours she chooses to wear are annoying, from the garish orange of her scarf to that too-cheerful yellow. It's blinding, really. Even that tooth-achingly sweet pink and blue the ex-Summoner chooses to wear aren't as bad. Aren't as distracting. Aren't as _annoying_.

You grit your teeth as she bounds around the bridge of the airship, yelling something to Brother over her shoulder in that accursed language of theirs which you can't understand and then giggling loudly at something Shinra says, which isn't even that funny. You wish she would just be quiet for once.

Then she turns her attention to you and waves a hand in front of your face, grinning cheekily. "Earth to Paine!"

You ignore her and avert your gaze. Maybe she'll just go away and skip off to find her cousin. Instead, the blonde pouts and pokes you hard in the arm.

You glare at her. "What do you want?"

She shrugs and spins around, her too-long scarves flicking against you. You swat at them as if they were pesky flies. She flashes you another grin over her shoulder and you narrow your eyes at her.

"What?" you ask again. She's so tiring to talk to. You wish she would just stop moving. It's making your head hurt.

"We've picked up on another sphere. Will you help me tell Yunie? She's on the deck, so she won't hear even if Brother makes an announcement."

You resist the urge to sigh and roll your eyes. She could just have said that in the first place. You silently turn to go—you don't need all those superfluous words and actions—but she throws her arms around your neck and stops you mid-stride.

This time, you really sigh. "Yes?"

She giggles and tilts her head to one side, eyes flashing with mirth. For once, you note absently, she's actually standing still. Then she leans forward and confidently kisses you full on the lips. The kiss is soft and warm and it makes your mind reel. You don't even have time to react before she pulls away, face stretched in a wide grin.

"Thank you!" she calls, laughter barely concealed in her tone as she runs back to her seat, a sunny yellow streak. You blink after her, wondering what that was about, what kind of game she was playing.

It's annoying as hell.

**Cabin**

It irks you that you can't stop thinking about it now. That that scene is imprinted on your mind and that she fills your thoughts even more than ever. Now not only does noise make you think of her, but silence too. Even as you lie in bed, you're listening out for her laughter, you're looking out for her bright grins.

You can hear the gunner's steady, even breathing, signalling that she's asleep, but in the other bed, you can hear the rustling of sheets and an occasional thump as a pillow is fluffed up.

_She's so noisy for a thief_, you think. You would have thought she would have stealth ingrained into every bone of her body. Your mind inadvertently wanders back to that kiss. Looking at the way she had stolen it, with precision and not a moment's hesitance, you decide that maybe she _is_ a thief after all. Just a different type from what you'd normally expect. She does things spontaneously, steals when people least expect it. She's so loud that people tend to overlook her.

But not you—you're aware of her every move, of every squeak she makes and whine she utters. You're aware of the strangely cute sound she's making at the back of her throat now, that's half a whine and half a frustrated sigh, as she tries to get to sleep. You wonder why the brunette has not awakened—the girl in the bed between the two of yours is so noisy you think she would have probably awoken the entire crew by now.

"Rikku."

"Mmrmph?" says Rikku's pillow.

You crack open one red eye and watch out of your peripheral vision as she burrows under her pillow and sheets.

"Be quiet."

A mop of blonde hair pokes out from under the lump of sheets and fires a pout at you, followed in quick succession by a small pink tongue as she scrunches up her face. "Meanie." There is a slight pause. "I can't sleep."

"Neither can I, with that ruckus you're making."

She puffs out one cheek, and you choose to ignore her silly antics, turning over to face the wall. There is silence, and you wonder if she's actually going to be considerate for once.

A small dip in your mattress tells you that that's not going to be the case.

"What. Are you doing?" you grit out. Your back stays firmly to her and you refuse to turn around as she snuggles in under the sheets with you.

"Going to bed." She stifles a yawn. "G'night, Paine." A thin, pyjama-clad arm slings itself over your waist. You glare at the tiny dancing chocobo patterns that run down the bright blue material of her pyjama sleeve.

"Rikku."

"Mmmm?"

"Get out of my bed."

"Nope." She snuggles deeper, soft and warm against your back. You almost don't have the heart to tell her to leave. You open your mouth again, but she interrupts.

"Good night," she repeats firmly. As if in afterthought, she leans over and gives you a peck on the cheek. You stiffen slightly, but the other girl doesn't move. You can feel her warm, steady breaths against the back of your neck.

You sigh, and try to relax. You wonder if it's your imagination or if her arms have tightened around you even more. You can't help but feel mildly irritated. It irks you that now it's even harder to stop thinking about her.

**Deck**

"Paine, have you seen Rikku?"

You barely glance up from polishing your blade. "No."

"I hope she's not out on the deck. It's pouring outside."

You finally pause and set down the polishing cloth, eyes locking onto hers. Mismatched orbs of blue and green reflect the worry in her tone.

"I'm sure she's fine," you say as placatingly as you can manage, but even to your ears it comes out curt. It's no wonder that the furrow in the shorter girl's brow ceases to go away. She fidgets a little on the spot. You want to roll your eyes. You know what she's after.

"Do you want me to go look for her?" you say finally, cutting to the chase.

Her eyes light up and she clasps her hands in front of her chest. "Would you?"

You sigh and pack up your things, standing up.

"Thank you," she says sweetly, beaming at you. You wave her off with one hand and head to the elevator, feeling a bit manipulated by everyone on the airship recently.

When the door opens up to the deck, you see that it really is raining heavily and the slim figure standing at the helm looks like a tiny smudge of summer—all yellow and orange and green. You can't help but think that she looks like an oil painting, a wild blur of colours, and yet you can still make out the rough shapes and outlines. Her scarves are whipping about in the wind, and her yellow hair follows suit, a mess of golden threads. She looks wild and free and beautiful.

You leave your sword behind where it's dry, and step out into the freezing rain. She acknowledges your presence with a small upward quirk of her lips as you come to stand beside her.

"You're crazy," you yell over the wind and the rain.

"What?" She can't hear you over the roar of the storm. She still has her blue headband on, but her hair is out of its usual messy ponytail, and a few damp strands are plastered to her face while the rest flares out behind her. Her beads click together merrily in the gale, dancing to their own rhythm. You absently reach out to brush a few stray strands from her eyes as you lean over, your lips brushing lightly over the shell of her ear.

"I said," you say in a low voice, "that you're crazy." Your voice is husky and your warm breath caresses her cold skin, making her shiver slightly as her breath hitches.

"Well," she says, sounding slightly breathless, "then you're even crazier than I am for following me up here, right?" She turns to face you, eyes meeting yours steadily, green boring into red, as if she's challenging you, daring you to back down. For once, you're not really sure of what to say, and so you remain silent, eyes locked onto hers, hoping she doesn't notice that you don't have a retort poised on your lips.

She cocks her head absently to one side and regards you with a smile. "Your hair's actually pretty long. It looks nicer when it's not all gelled up like that." She reaches over to touch a few damp silver locks, soft from the rain with the gel diluted with rain. A small frown mars your lips as you try to brush her hand away. Her bottom lip juts out and even quivers a bit as her eyebrows furrow. You wonder if she knows how cute she looks like that, with her head tilted, eyes shining and pout coming on in full force.

Knowing her, she probably does, and is using it to her full advantage. You open your mouth to say it isn't working—that hopelessly adorable expression has no effect on you. It doesn't make you want to run a slim finger across her soft cheek, tracing the trails of the plump water droplets that run down her face in thin rivulets. It doesn't make you want to run a hand through her beautiful, golden locks, twining them between your fingers as you pull her close. It definitely does _not_ make you want to slide a hand under her chin and tilt her head towards yours as you press your cold lips upon her warm ones and glide your hand down her back in a warm, smooth caress.

So why are you doing it? Why are you taking such pleasure in hearing that startled sound she makes as your tongue runs along her bottom lip? Why do you love the way she slings an arm around your neck to pull you closer? Why is your heart beating faster and your breath coming out short as she is pliant in your arms and allows herself to be pulled flush against you?

The rain beats down, unrelenting, cold and hard. The wind whips around the two of you, threatening to tear you apart, flinging her hair and scarves in every direction. But you don't care. You're not paying attention any more. All you know is that warm body pressed up against yours, hands kneading gently at the base of your neck. All you know is how good, how _right_ this feels. All you know is her.

You don't even care when the third member of your little sphere-hunter party gives the two of you a decidedly—in you opinion, anyway—evil and conspiratorial wink when the two of you step out of the elevator, drenched to the core. You ignore her when she asks her cousin if she's finally done moping around and you pretend not to notice the blush dusting the cheeks of said cousin, nor the friendly pat on the back the brunette administers to your wet shoulder as she giggles insanely and ducks into the cabin to avoid your scowl.

**Engine room**

You watch coolly as the lithe blonde viciously kicks the machine, and then wince as her yelps of pain join the loud metallic clangs of the abused piece of machinery as they resound around the room. You resist the urge to roll your eyes as she hops about on one foot, trying to nurse the bruised other and almost topples backwards in the process.

"Paaaaine, come and help!" she whines. You grudgingly push off the wall and start towards her.

It is probably an easy job, which the green-eyed girl can accomplish in less than five minutes, or else she wouldn't have been sent down here to fix the engine. Brother probably just wanted her out of his hair for a moment. But the thief had dragged you down to the engine room with her to check out the problem. You think it's a waste of time since you know nothing of engines and can't be the least help, but you still kept your mouth shut when two jade green orbs had stared at you imploringly. Or maybe it was the way she had flashed you a big grin that was so typical of her before kissing you and bounding towards the elevator, her arm hooked around yours. You had twitched involuntarily as sniggers from the bridge had followed you out.

But now it is just the two of you in the room, and this is alright by you. She is probably the only person you have ever felt totally comfortable with. She doesn't mind your silences, doesn't force you to talk. She babbles on enough for the two of you—heck, for an entire army.

She's standing with her hip slung to one side, and her left cheek puffed out in concentration as she studies the engine. You stand behind her and encircle her waist, pulling her close to you. She laughs and snuggles closer as you bury your head into her hair. You feel a bubble of contented warmth rise in your chest and lodge itself in your throat. You have something you need to tell her.

"Rikku?"

"Hmm?" She's still studying the engine.

"…Nothing. Never mind."

"Paaaine, tell me! I want to know."

"Later."

"Oh, okay."

There is a comfortable silence for a while, before she makes the soft clucking sound that you recognise as being the one that she makes whenever she has come to a decision.

"Figured out what's wrong?"

"What's wrong?"

"With the engine."

"Oh. Nothing. It's just fine."

"…Then why are we down here?"

"Brother wanted to give us some time alone."

"You mean you whined and pleaded and begged until he agreed to lie for you just to get you to shut up?"

"Yup!"

There's a brief silence again, before she twists around in your arms and just _looks_ at you, with an expression you've never seen before. A gentle smile graces her lips, and her eyes are warm and bright. However, from the way she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, you can tell she's slightly nervous. She's mentally debating something, weighing the options in her mind. But it's a good kind of nervous. After all, she's not outright squirming in your arms.

This is when you suddenly realise just how well you know her. How you are able to read into her every little action. After all, you're probably the only person in the world who knows that she has six different pouts, each varying in its degree of intensity and cuteness, each meaning six different things.

"Paine?"

"Hm?"

"Nothing, never mind!"

You bop her on the head.


End file.
